


A Guard and His Captain

by erunamiryene



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erunamiryene/pseuds/erunamiryene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A guardsman's devotion to his captain never wanes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Guard and His Captain

He brushes her now-silver hair, as she tells him stories of her childhood. He's heard them before and knows these are colored with wishful thinking more than with reality, but simply smiles and asks, "And then what happened, my love?"

She always smiles when he does that.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes she forgets that she's no longer in the guard, and wants to spar. He used to play along, until no longer being able to lift a sword leaves her in tears. Now, when she thinks she's still Guard-Captain Aveline, they polish armor and discuss blades.

To him, she never stopped being Guard-Captain.

 

* * *

 

He still remembers regaining consciousness and seeing her face, red hair coming out of its ponytail after the fight. She said his name, and smiled, and he fell in love.

She always asks to hear that story.

 

* * *

 

A few times, she's called him Wesley. He can't be cross with her, because she always says it with such a peaceful expression on her face. He hopes he's made her as happy as Wesley did.

In her more lucid moments, she assures him he has.

 

* * *

 

He catches her in the eastern flower garden, helmet and sword at her feet.  
"What are you doing, my love?" he asks.  
"Waiting for Hawke. She'll be here soon, I'm sure."  
He has to covertly blink away the tears that well up in his eyes; it's been two years since Anders sent word that Hawke had died, and Donnic can't bear to make his captain cry by reminding her again.

He asks instead, "Shall I have tea ready?"

 

* * *

 

"How is she, Donnic?"  
He can only shrug at the Rivaini merchant's question. "Yesterday she had a lively conversation with 'Anders' on our front porch," he smiled. "Our tabby was very confused."  
She laughs the same full-throated chuckle of her youth. "May I see her?"  
"Of course. She's out in the yard. But she might not remember you."  
"Oh, she will," Isabela smiles confidently, before walking outside.  
He watches from the window as Aveline lights up and embraces Isabela, much to the Rivaini's surprise and amusement. They talk for a few minutes, and then Isabela leaves through the back gate, jauntily saluting. Aveline shakes her head in a motherly way.

At the window, he smiles.

 

* * *

 

Their daughter comes to him in tears.  
"Father, she doesn't remember me!"  
He touches her cheek. "I warned you that might happen, didn't I, Leandra?"  
She sighs. "Yes, Father."  
"Just remember that she has always loved you, and will always love you. She looks through your pictures every day."  
"She does?"  
"Yes." He smiles and brushes tears from her face. "And she's always excited when she knows you're coming to read with her. It reminds her of when her father would read to her, and when she read to him."

He points outside to where Aveline is patiently waiting on the garden swing, a book of Orlesian fairy tales and "Where's My Cow?" in her lap.

 

* * *

 

For the first time in decades, he wakes knowing he will not see her smile. He pads into the kitchen and looks out the window toward the gazebo that Fenris built, where Merrill's flowers – marigolds, he notes with a faint smile – dance in the breeze, and Aveline's sword and shield lay on a green velvet cushion in a fine glass case Isabela brought from Antiva. A small statue of Andraste, sent by Sebastian, overlooks the case; he knows Aveline wasn't a believer, but it makes him feel better and he hopes she'll forgive him that little weakness.

He takes his mug of coffee and the book of Orlesian fairy tales, and goes to sit on the bench in the gazebo, where he imagines he can hear her voice on the breeze.


End file.
